


Of Consequence

by AJuicyContradiction



Category: Star Trek
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 16:25:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3902974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJuicyContradiction/pseuds/AJuicyContradiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Kirk can't stay out of trouble. Spock does his best to remain supportive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Consequence

One of the new officers stumbled in with Jim slumped against his side- that's when Dr. McCoy knows that he's in for a long night. 

Lacerations, bruises, concussions are far more common than they should be- always quickly repaired, of course. He's used to Jim sauntering in with a cut above his brow and a few bruises from an altercation he almost certainly didn't need to be involved in, shooting him a smirk and a "tell Spock/Uhura/Scotty that I came to medical," before trying to slip out the door.

This time, the officer deposited Jim onto a biobed while his friend frantically tried to swipe a cloudy blue goop from his eyes.

After cleaning out his eyes and giving what he now recognized as some kind of venom a cursory examination, he knew two things.

1\. The venom was a neurotoxin that had just spent the better part of half an hour degrading the most important nerves in Jim's eyes.  
2\. Jim would be completely blind unless he could find a way to regenerate the nerves without making everything else on his face painfully sensitive.

"Dammit Jim, are you actually as dumb as I think you are?" The doctor was fuming, his sharp movements echoed by the hiss of another hypo.

"I don't think anyone is as dumb as you think I-ow, fuck Bones-" Jim hissed, slapping a hand on his neck where the shot was administered.

"Are you out of your fucking mind, how did this even happen?"

"It was an accident," Jim exclaimed, slapping away another hypo. Bones looked on, only vaguely surprised, "you said you couldn't do anything yet, what are you injecting me with?"

"Antibiotics and anti-virals," McCoy repressed a smirk, "and saline."

Jim rolled his eyes, McCoy grudgingly set down the last two and crossed his arms, regarding his younger friend with incredulous frustration. "Fine," he said after a moment, "explain yourself then."

Jim rolled his eyes, but didn't respond.

McCoy gestured vaguely, "go on then. I wanna hear it before Spock kills me for letting you get into this mess."

"Well," Jim drawled, "honestly he'll probably kill me first-"

 

"What the hell is wrong with you," McCoy snapped, "What were you thinking-" his voice rose.

"Bones-"

"When you decided to go planet-side alone-"

"Bones-" Jim protested.

"to investigate a mystery life form with nothing but your phaser," he shouted.

 

"I wasn't thinking, I was pissed and looking for a fight, okay," Jim snapped, "is that a good answer for you?"

McCoy dropped back against the wall and swiped a hand over the stubble on his jaw, "Jim-"

"What do you want me to say," he continued, "We both know I fucked up, we both know that this might not be temporary," he trailed off at the end, "what do you want me to say?"

McCoy took a deep breath and pushed off the wall, "Nothing," he huffed, "I want you to sit here and not move while I go analyze this venom and see if I can't work something out."

Jim nodded and sat back which was a sure testament to his exhaustion, McCoy turned the lights off out of habit even though Jim wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

He shut the door to his office and fell into his chair. Spock probably knew that something was up, could probably feel it through their creepy mind thing. His communicator beeps and he flips it open.

"Spock…."

****

When it happens he's in the midst of a discussion regarding the beauty of the day's ceremony. His father's new bride gushes over the complicated combination of the Vulcan ceremony with the human aspects the Vulcan professor had wished to include. 

"I am extremely pleased," she'd said, with a small smile that reminded him how satisfied he was that his father's bride was so open to Terran culture, but Vulcan enough to be considered an acceptable substitute for his mother in the on going movement to repopulate the Vulcan race. And grateful that his father had once again found someone whom he was so mentally compatible with.

The dining room suddenly fades, his eyes burned intensely. The symptoms right themselves almost immediately, he feels their bond close- and he's left with that vague warmth that is uniquely Jim buzzing at the back of his mind where it's been for the last three years. Rarely in those last three years, however, had their bond been closed to this extent.

He's well acquainted with the small flares of pain and overwhelming emotion that come with being bonded to James T. Kirk. This, however, was accompanied by more concerning physiological symptoms and was by no means small.

He sat anxiously through the next course of their meal, expending equal amounts of energy into searching their now limited bond and shielding his own growing concern from his family members, silently cursing himself for Jim’s preternatural ability in manipulating their bond. Usually neither had the need to close it, bother preferring each other’s company within their own minds even and especially when separated. Spock had forgotten how adept his partner was at shutting him out. Finally, the plates were removed from the table and he moved to step outside at the first lull in conversation. 

"Excuse me," he waited for a nod from his father and quickly exited the room, pulling out his communicator as he stood from the table.

"Spock," McCoy answered.

"Doctor, has Jim been injured?"

"He-uh, ran into some trouble planet-side," this of course made the small episode even more concerning.

"May I inquire as to the nature of this conflict."

"He beamed down alone to investigate an anomaly on the life scanner," he explained, "turns out the anomaly was some kind of animal."

Spock processed this for a moment, "was his vision affected in any way, I experienced my own vision fading exactly 1 hour and 13 standard minutes ago but I was unable to call-"

"Yeah, he- I think this kind of news should be delivered in person," McCoy stalled. "It's nothing lethal, he's mostly fine."

Fine is perhaps the most insufficient descriptor in all of the Standard language, it's exact meaning has too many variables.

"I would like to return tomorrow morning."

"That might-" he cuts off abruptly and Spock hears a faint shouting in the distance. "Oh, Jim says that he's an idiot."

Spock pauses, confused, "I doubt that-"

"I-he didn't, but he apologizes for not being able to join you tomorrow."

"My family will understand, he should not be concerned."

"I'll let him know- sorry for the bad news Spock, have fun."

"Vulcans do not-"

"Yeah, yeah- I think you're husband's trying to escape, gotta go."  
****

As soon as he snapped his communicator shut, Jim was shouting down the hall, "Did you just snitch on me?"

McCoy repressed the smirk that tugged at his lips, "I didn't feel like being a Vulcan chew toy."

"He already knew something was up," Jim complained, searching their bond for any hint of anger, frustration, but found the vague warmth that was Spock. He found it laced, only mildly, with concern, along with slightly more than a hint of annoyance. "He will actually kill both of us, you know that."

McCoy turned in his chair, "Exactly, that's why I wanna be on his good side. Stop yelling in my sickbay, you're disturbing the other patients."

"Actually-" a new voice interjected.

"Enough from you, Rand," Bones cut off the Yeoman.

"Really though-" 

"Keep it up, I'll break your hand again."

***********

Jim quickly discovered that while reality had faded to darkness, he still dreamt in color. More vibrantly, he thinks, even than before. Light beige sand rubs his feet raw but he doesn't mind because a crashing wave overtakes them with a flood of crystal blue. There's a rocky cliff face a few miles to his right, the dark edge cuts across the bright green sky and he thinks it might be one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen.

It's their last shore leave before their departure on the current mission, a few people litter the beach, Spock is flipping through a PADD on a beach towel. Kirk walks towards him, beaming. The air seems to vibrate when he calls, trying to draw him into the water. "Look through these first, then I will join you," Spock says, and Jim takes the PADD because it's probably a last minute form that needs a signature, an important notification- but the PADD is black.

"I can't see anything, is there something wrong with it?" He taps quickly at the unresponsive PADD and looks to Spock.

Spock looks up to him and states, evenly, "No Jim, it's your resignation, requested by Admiral Pike."

He meets Spock's eyes, piercing hazel meeting blue, "What?"

Spock's eyebrows furrow, "you are unfit for duty, how could you expect to remain in your position with this disability." 

He sets his jaw to protest but suddenly everything is dark again, but he can still feel the warmth of the two suns on his back. "Spock I can't see," he tries to search their bond, to see through his partner's eyes, but he finds nothing in the back of his mind that resembles the unique warmth that usually resides there. 

"We are all aware," he replies tersely, "Admiral Pike has asked that I take command of the Enterprise in your stead."

He can't find the words, he can't stay on the ship if he resigns- Spock wants to stay here without him. "I'm not leaving." 

"It is my understanding that you have no choice in the matter."

Jim wakes, gasping as he sits up in bed. He can feel the damp sheets and the way his undershirt is stuck to his chest.

When they report it to the admiralty they'll make him resign.

Bar-fights flash in his mind's eye, the overwhelming sense of emptiness permeating every cell in his body. 

 

Long eyelashes brush his cheeks and his eyes are open but everything is still black, "Bones," he croaks, voice thick despite the surge of adrenaline pushing through his veins.

"Here," the gruff voice is to his left, confirmed by a firm hand on his shoulder, "you're in sickbay, do you remember what happened?"

Jim gives a jerky nod but makes no move to sit back, he's still panting when he turns to his friend, "Bones, what have I done?"

McCoy takes a moment to respond, "you did something stupid," he says finally, "but you do dumb shit all the time, we’ll work it out." It's a promise.

"What if it doesn't-" he trails off, brushing a hand through sweat soaked hair, rubbing at his eyes.

"Have I ever failed you before," his friend takes a heaving breath, and shakes his head.

"Then you've got nothing to worry about," he says with a parting squeeze. Jim nods but makes no move to sit back, staring absently at the wall ahead.

"Are you good or do you need me to get Mrs. Kirk up here?"

His head snaps around, and he lowers back to the pillow, "I'm- No, I'm good. I'm good," his breathing slows, his heart rate drops and the overwhelming sense of dread ebbs just enough that he's sure Spock won't jolt awake with a panic attack down on New Vulcan.

McCoy regards his Captain with concern and sits back in his own chair, readjusting his PADD on his lap. "I'm gonna sit here and do some paperwork, get some rest if you can," he says softly.

He's still haunted by the starling lack of vibrant color and he's not sure he can do that again. Nevertheless he mumbles "sure," rolls to his side and hopes for a dreamless sleep.

****

Jim runs into him just as he's entering sickbay. He felt the bond grow in the back of his mind, but it remained closed, a testament to the improvement in mental control Jim has gained throughout their time as bondmates. 

Their chests collide and Jim's hands feel their way up to Spock's shoulders.  
"Sorry, Spock, I just," he huffs a laugh, "I didn't see you."

Spock examines his bondmate, his t'hy'la and notes the tension set in his shoulders, the bags beneath his eyes- clear but obviously unfocused, useless.

"It's quite alright," he takes his arm and steers Jim back into sickbay, "though I must ask why you were venturing into the hallway unaccompanied."

Jim scoffed and felt for the biobed, "I was gonna meet you at the transporter, I know my ship Spock." He insists.

"I have no doubt," Spock turns to look for Doctor McCoy who was just jogging into the patient bay, he stops when he sees Jim swinging his legs back onto the biobed. 

"Dammit Jim, I thought you were dead, all your vitals cut off, why the hell didn't you-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Jim waved absently, "I'm fine, mom, really."

Jim was looking straight ahead, not willing to embarrass himself with a failed attempt to approximate the Doctor's exact location

"Fine is not an adequate-" Spock started

"I feel wonderful," he said quickly, "I just can't…you know," he said with a vague gesture toward his eyes.

Spock shifted in his place next to Jim, "If we engage in a meld, you may be able to see through our bond. If a permanent solution cannot be reached, you may be able to see through it so long as we maintain physical contact.”

Jim huffed a laugh, “You want me to Captain a ship and to go on missions with your hand on my face the whole time?”

McCoy watched as Spock shifted in his place next to the biobed, “It is not an optimal solution, but I believe it is preferable to your current state.”

Jim heaved a sigh, but didn’t respond. Spock reached a hand down, fingers trailing over those of his bondmate, Kirk reciprocated the gesture, but his gaze remained fixed forward. 

I’msorryI’msorryI’msorrymyfault  
Nonsensewewillfindasolution

“I don’t suppose you could try to revamp the dermal regenerator,” Jim asks and his suggestion is lacking the brightness that his tone typically holds.

“Neurons and skin cells are too different,” McCoy replies, “but we will think of something, until then you can stay here or I can release you into the care of your loving husband,” he says dryly.

“I believe it may be beneficial to begin training to see through the bond promptly,” Spock says, noting the slack of Jim’s jaw. He knew his th’y’la to be one of the more resilient of his species, together they had been caught in more dismal situations and still he had not seen Jim so…cold. He was resigned to his blindness already and it had only been, to Spock’s understanding, just under 50 hours since the incident.

“That’s what I think too,” Dr. McCoy supplied, eyes flickering to Spock’s to share a brief moment of concern. A moment of silence. “Right,” Bones clapped, “get out of my sickbay, if I can’t help you, you’re clutter. Fuck off.” Spock releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, suddenly grateful for McCoy’s easily employed camaraderie, it seems to invite a twitch of a smirk. Jim slides off the bed and begrudgingly takes Spock’s offered arm, barely containing a defeated sigh when he fumbled. Spock quickly adjusted his elbow so that it eased into his bond-mate’s grasp, but the damage was done.

The walk back to their quarters is silent.

********

He’s jolted into darkness by a strong shake, acutely aware of the firm hands gripping his shoulders.

“T’hy’la, you are dreaming,” Spock says again, he sees Jim’s eyes lull about before focusing on him, his voice, rather. 

“Sorry,” Jim mumbles.

“It is illogical to take fault where there is none,” he says quietly, not bothering to raise the lights because the dimness does not impair his vision, and of course, it will no longer help his bondmate.

“Sorry,” Jim breathes. They sit in silence and Spock waits for Jim to slip back into the restless sleep he’d found only hours before.

“I believe discussing your dream may be necessary in helping you retire fitfully.”

“I’m fine,” is the unfortunately sharp reply.

He pauses, the silence is thick and unpleasant, he knows that Jim will not rest in this state,“It is a device that we have employed in the past,” Spock reasons, “and it has always proven beneficial.”

Kirk lies silent for several more moments. “I- uh,” he huffs a dry laugh, but continues, “I’m just thinking about what’s going to happen, you know?” He says finally, “with…I can’t- Starfleet doesn’t employ blind Captains.”

What Spock can extrapolate from his bondmate’s begrudging admission is less than satisfactory. Far less. The implications, he discovers quite quickly, reach far to the most fundamental insecurities that his t’hy’la entertains.

“I would not take the Enterprise in your stead,” he says, sure that he’s correcting or at least combating his partner’s anxieties, “nor would I remain should you be dismissed.”

“I know,” Jim says, but it sounds like a question.

“The statistical likelihood that you will be dismissed at all is not significantly more than that of Doctor McCoy finding a viable cure.”

He hears puff of laughter, “thanks.”

Spock turns to his side, frustrated again that he cannot instinctually know how he should comfort his t’hy’la. 

He slides his hand down to Jim’s and intertwines their fingers, the mental affect very much like that of the simpler two fingered gesture, but stronger- and hopefully more comforting, he pushed calm and magnified the urge to sleep already present. Spock pulled him closer, bringing his back to meet with his chest, “we will find a solution, adun, that much I can promise.”  
Jim nodded, but his breath was already becoming even, his hold on Spock’s hand loosened.  
“I would suffer in your place.” He says quietly, but Jim is already asleep.  
*********  
“Frustration is a perfectly reasonable emotion to entertain in this situation, but it is ultimately preventing success. Focus, ashalik, release it, and make another attempt.”  
The first several tries were met with an energy that seemed to spring from nowhere, with unrivaled patience and the explicit expectation of success. There was no thought given to failure, as was custom in his Captain’s approach to every obstacle. The next several were met with less enthusiasm, and the expectation of success still remained, though the lack of immediate gratification proved to be wearing.  
After nearly three hours of fruitless attempts, his t’hy’la had grown tired, angry, and as much as Spock could emphathize with this, he could not fail to see that his negative response would render all future attempts to be fruitless as well.  
“Okay,” Jim says bitingly, “focus, I didn’t even think about that, thanks so much, honey.”  
Spock can feel the irritation pulsing through their link, and knows that the aggression is not directed at him, but rather festers for the entire situation. It is understandable, but extremely counter-productive.  
“Perhaps we should break,” he suggests. Jim looks up to meet his eyes and the hostility there fades.  
“No, I’m fine,” he says, “Sorry, I’m just,” he sighs but sets his jaw so that Spock knows that he will not yield, whether he will approach the task with renewed patience will be revealed shortly.  
Spock replaces his hands onto his partner’s psi-points, “your manipulation of our bond took months to master, a feat for psi-null humans,” he says, before beginning, “but still you managed.”  
“I’m not gonna be blind for months, Spock, cure or not. Just start.”  
Spock initiates the meld and begins with recounting the previous minutes, but the bond wavers as he approaches the current moment, he invites Kirks’ consciousness to slip behind his eyes, to see through them as he sees, and directs them toward the small entrance to their quarters.  
He feels the meld break, finally, after a long moment of Jim trying, rather aggressively to edge into his field of vision.  
Jim steps back, releasing a hostile groan of defeat. “I can feel you, your thoughts, your emotions, your limb position for fuck’s sake, but I can’t- what’s so difficult about this,” he asks, and Spock cannot say because truthfully using his sight should be as simple as any of the things his adun listed.  
“I believe,” he started slowly, weary of eliciting defensive behavior, further trauma is not needed, “that the impediment may be an individual mental block.”  
Jim stared back, eyes sharp on his own, but unseeing. “Are you saying that there’s no good reason for me to be failing right now?”  
“I am saying,” Spock corrects, “that it may do well to continue at a later time with renewed patience.”  
Jim heaved a sigh, “fine, let’s – fine.” He turned, vaguely facing the door, shuffling tensely. Spock stepped forward, nimble fingers encircling his arm. Jim yanked his arm away. “Stop, just-“  
Spock stepped away, “it would be unwise to attempt to navigate the ship given-“  
“I know,” Jim snapped, “give me a minute, please.”  
“Jim-“  
“Please.”  
“As you wish,” he replied quietly.  
********  
Learning to shield had never been this difficult, and he hadn’t even really wanted to shield the bond, they rarely did anyhow and when it was needed Spock could do it easily. Now though he wanted so badly to see and he was used to getting what he wanted. Work hard enough and you’ll always get what you want, it’s never failed him before. The world, however, was still dark and Spock’s even suggestions to just relax were becoming more infuriating every time the meld broke.  
“Please,” he said again, because he loved Spock he really did, but right now his calm logic was about to make him snap. He’d never yelled, never asked why he went down, he skipped the whole lecture “on the consequence of irrationally impulsive action,” and eased into the role of caring husband too easily.  
He was trying to placate Jim, he was walking on broken glass and that is not what he needs right now.  
He doesn’t need to be babied just because his brother died.  
Yes he’s upset, yes his actions were due in part to that but he wishes, as much as it surprises him, that McCoy, at least, would’ve called him out on it. He was terrified he’d never see again, now more than ever after failing to see through a meld, but he needed, physically needed everything to go back to normal. The darkness screamed back that normal may be irrevocably changed and Saturday two weeks from now marked the first time he’d see Sam in years and all he’d get was a few minutes to look and speak to the empty shell like that would provide some sort of closure.  
He couldn’t make provisions for his sister-in-law and nephews because DATAPADS like most things required his sight even though he expects that Spock might have already started.  
Jim falls back on the small couch at the foot of their bunk, and wonders what he’s going to do if everything continues going to shit.


End file.
